


tainted love

by lookngforalaska



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, alternate universe where tate is alive still, angsty high school teens, but violet is still moody, high school sweethearts, how many cigarettes does violet smoke a day, soft but angsty, soft tate, soft violet, tate is so good to violet im upset
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-01-15 15:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18501667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookngforalaska/pseuds/lookngforalaska
Summary: Violet Harmon finds sanctuary in next door neighbor Tate Langdon, when she moves to L.A with her parents Ben and Vivien Harmon. These are the years that ensue.(my take on murder house. tate's not dead!)





	1. driving down the 101, california here we come

**Author's Note:**

> hello bb's!! this is a bit different from my other two pieces cause it's like. an actual story rather than a one shot? anyways i'm still kinda working on it and i have sort of a plan but it could change so i might be editing this :.,,) it's mostly original stuff but obviously i took inspo from the show and some bits (mostly near the start) are scenes from the show so sorry if that's kinda boring !! some of the same things may happen but in a different order/they turn out differently.  
> title is possibly a work in progress but it’s a song by soft cell!

" _And the weather in Los Angeles today is sunny with highs of 95._ ” The radio in the Harmon car quickly switched to loud, angry music from Violet’s iPod.

“Violet, please unplug your music from the radio! I can’t listen to it anymore, especially for the last hour of this god forsaken car journey.” Violet Harmon sighed at her parents and leant forward in her seat and aggressively pulled the cord out from the radio. Immediately after, loud, cheery chart radio music ascended from the dashboard. Her father, Ben, reached over to her mother, Vivien, and touched her hand. Vivien was wary, and only let Ben’s hand linger for a second. “Yeah, this remixed, overproduced bullshit is way better.” Violet rolled her eyes and sunk back in her seat as she plugged her chunky headphones into her iPod and let it run. She was still squashed up against a box, which luckily had a few of her books at the top. She picked up a chunky, tattered picture book on Renaissance art and started flicking through. “Language, Vi.” Vivien said, looking disapprovingly at her using the rear view mirror. They’ve definitely cut down on reminding her about certain things such as swearing and smoking. They know how hard the last couple of months have been for her, have been for all of them. “I’m glad we called you Violet and not our second choice.” Ben said, sneaking a peek at her while also watching the busy freeway. “Which was what?” Violet asked, peering up from her book. “Sunshine,” Vivien said with a chuckle, taking her sunglasses off so she could see her daughter in the mirror glaring at her. Ben joined in with the laughter and Violet mocked them.

It took about an hour to get to the house. Their Range Rover pulled over onto the sidewalk behind a large moving van, next to a very old, eerie mansion that shadowed the whole street. There was lots of front garden space, with bunches of slightly wilting flowers around the outside of the house, and a porch running round the side of the house. Lots of windows. It was enclosed with a tall, black, wrought iron gate and a green hedge. Waiting on the porch for the family was the realtor, Marcy. She was short, her clothes were way too small for her and her hair was just a little bit too dyed red, not like her moms’ natural color, Violet thought.

“Harmons!” Marcy said, coming to greet them. “Marcy,” Vivien said disappointedly. “What are you doing here?” She waved the movers in. “I have more papers I need you to sign. Shall we? In the kitchen?” Marcy was already walking into their new home. Violet was walking along slowly behind her parents up to the house, holding one of her boxes. She didn’t have many things to bring from her old home, she wasn’t really very sentimental. She looked around at the other houses on her new street, and she stopped to look at one of the houses next door. It didn’t look like it belonged next to their house: it was quite a bit smaller, and it looked like an old country farm home. The garden was very well presented, with lots of flowers and small trees growing. There was a boy sitting on the porch. He was staring at her, and he waved at Violet when he saw her looking back. She rolled her eyes and walked into the house.

-

 

After a week, Violet’s room was nearly all set up. All she had to do was unpack her books and music. She loved her collection of CD’s and vinyl, but her iPod library, which was on shuffle quietly in her room, was definitely superior. She went downstairs to get another one of her boxes from the hallway and when she returned, she saw someone in her room. It was the weird guy from next door who had waved at her. “Hey, you know it’s rude to go through someone else’s shit.” She dropped the box down in the middle of the floor and went over to the boy. He had blonde, scraggly curly hair and was kind of unkempt.

“Cool collection. Got any Kurt?” the boy said while picking up a pile of CDs from the top of a box and sitting down on Violet’s yet unmade bed. Violet folded her arms and tried to look unimpressed. He was cool, she’d give him that. “Who are you?” She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows at him. “I’m Tate, I’m a new patient of Dr. Harmon’s. I like to explore the house before and after my sessions. I live next door.” He already knew she knew that. Tate smiled at her as they both sat down to talk more.

“Wait so, all that bullshit Mar-the realtor was saying about this place all true? Ha.”

“Yeah, ghosts are my favorite.”

“I’m not scared of anything.”

“The east coast is much better. At least we had weather.”

“Why’d you move here?” “My mom had a miscarriage and caught my dad cheating.” “Have you ever seen a baby coffin?”

“You’ve never heard of Bikini Kill or the Raincoats?”

Their conversations about nothing, everything, seemed to go on for hours and Violet weirdly took a small liking to Tate. It was obvious he felt the same way about her. Something was different about Tate, though, Violet could sense. He was like her. They hung out in Violet’s room and listened to her music for the rest of the afternoon. 

“Violet I—“ Ben barged into the dimly lit bedroom of his teenage daughter. “Tate, what are you doing in here? Our session ended hours ago.” He looked stern at the boy. “Dad! We were just talking, he didn’t do anything wrong! He—““I don’t want to see you with him again.” Ben angrily whispered, as Tate was walking down the hall still in earshot.

 


	2. cigarette daydreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please, Dr. Harmon. Get her to like, call me or something.” She heard Tate say, as he walked down the steps. Ben ignored him. “See you Friday, Tate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning!!! descriptions of blood at the start

The blood that trickled from Violet’s arm into the cold, unfamiliar sink felt strangely comforting, like an old friend, a big sister, her favorite female singer. She used her dad’s razor blades, her parents still hadn’t caught on yet. She’d been doing it since she found out her dad had an affair on her mom back in Boston. She looked at her face in the bathroom mirror: her skin was pale and grey, her eyes were dark and had dark circles around them. “Ha, this is a joke.” Violet said out loud to herself. She looked down at the razor in her fingers and back up at herself. She quickly took the blade to her neck and watched the blood ooze out of the slit of her neck. She felt happy, free, and calm.

“What are you doing? Stop that!” Tate shouted as he stood with her in the bathroom, looking down at her arms. She looked back into the mirror at herself and the blood was gone from her neck. She must’ve daydreamed it. She looked back at Tate and she could see the hurt and worry in his eyes. Tate pulled on her arm and she tried to pull back from him. He also tried to grab the blade. “Let… fucking… GO!” they both pulled in either direction and Tate’s grasp slipped. The blade fell harshly on Violet’s arm, and another line appeared, in between where she had just previously taken it. She stared at the new, red gash on her arm. “What the fuck?” Her eyebrows furrowed and there was a look of hurt in her eyes. She ran out of the bathroom, downstairs and out the door.

She sat on the porch wall on the side of her house and lit a cigarette. She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to stop the minimal bleeding with her sleeve. She almost thought she dozed off until she heard faint, angry voices behind the door near where she was. She heard the door open and she heard Tate and her dad arguing, about her. “Oh shit,” she whispered to herself. She quickly stubbed her cigarette out, jumped off the wall and hid behind it. “Please, Dr. Harmon. Get her to like, call me or something.” She heard Tate say, as he walked down the steps. Ben ignored him. “See you Friday, Tate.” he said, sternly. It was Tuesday. Tate had 2 sessions a week with Ben Harmon. “Fuck,” she cursed again as she tried to look at the two men conversing a few feet away from where she was hidden. Violet saw Tate angrily grumble and kick at the loose brick on the path leading up to the house. He looked around again at Ben, sadly. “Goodbye, Tate.” he shooed him away and the boy walked back to his house. Violet sighed and she leaned against the wall. “Don’t worry, he’s gone.” Ben had walked up behind her, on the other side of the wall. She quickly turned around to face her father and grabbed the crushed up cigarette butt on the wall and threw it on the ground like nothing had happened. Ben laughed and leant on the wall opposite his daughter. “I’m not here to bust you.” Violet silently nodded at what Ben had said, idly fiddling with the edge of her frayed sweater.

“What’s up with Tate?” Violet asked him a little while later, they were both in his office now. Violet was sweeping her hand across his bookshelf, she was scrunching her nose up at all the dusty, boring titles. Ben was sat at his desk, flicking through patients’ paperwork. “Patient confidentiality.” “Okay…” Violet turned to face him and rolled her eyes. She sat down in one of the squeaky leather seats. “There must be a reason you don’t want me hanging out with him.” she tapped her fingers on the arm, she was getting restless in this room. Violet didn’t really want to hang out with him right now anyway, after the incident in the bathroom. She just wanted another reason to stay away from him. “He’s just not a good kid, Violet.” Ben wasn’t paying much attention to his daughter, and didn’t notice when she groaned and slammed the door on her way out.

Violet was holed up in her room for the rest of the day. Tomorrow was her first day at her new school here. She had a couple of friends back in Boston, and texted them quite regularly when she first moved to Los Angeles but now, it’s like they forgot all about her. Violet liked English class, and she liked reading. In her old school in Boston, she’d spend a lot of her time in the library and she made quite good friends with the kooky middle aged librarian. In the present, she was reading some forgotten old book she found at the bottom of one of her moving boxes. She heard a pebble hit one of her windows. She brushed it off as her hearing things over her music playing. A couple minutes later, she heard a few more pebbles. She also thought she heard someone calling for her. “Violet!” she looked up from the book that she wasn’t really reading and got up to turn her music off. She walked over warily to the window where the pebbles had hit and she peeked through her blinds. Tate was there, waiting.

She rolled her eyes and opened the blinds, and then her window. “Fuck off.” she said smugly, but there was still a little waiver in her voice that she hoped he hadn’t noticed. Violet had nearly shut her window all the way when he spoke. “No, wait, please. I’m sorry. Come down and talk? Your parents are out, aren’t they?” Tate apologized and smiled up at her. Violet’s eyebrows furrowed and she looked creeped out. “How do you know they’re out?” she whisper-shouted down at him on the grass, she crossed her arms and waited impatiently for an answer. She’d covered the accidental slash he made in her arm with a bandage. He saw it and he looked concerned. “The cars gone,” he pointed below her, in the general direction of where the Harmon’s car was usually parked. “Come on, I’ll be waiting outside the gate.” He walked off to the front of the house to wait for her. Violet sighed and closed her window shut, and walked to her bed. She jiggled her legs and fumbled with her bandage as she thought about going to talk to him. She was still wary of him, especially after what her father said earlier. But the fact her dad didn’t want her spending time with him sort of made her want to even more. She pulled the sweater that she was wearing earlier over her thin shirt to cover the bandage. She pulled on some of her old boots at the front door and snatched her frayed bag from the coat rack.

She opened the front door to see Tate over by the gate, picking at some grass. She shut the front door loudly to announce herself. She turned back around and saw Tate stood up, smiling in her direction. She walked up to him, gazing slightly past him, trying not to look in his eyes that bored into hers. Violet’s bag was swinging against her hip as she fiddled with her sweater and bandage that had been uncovered slightly. “Cool. You came.” He looked down at her bandage and reached out cautiously to touch it, like it would attack him. She jerked her hand backwards and dropped it to her side, quickly. “What did you wanna talk about? Where did you want to go?” Violet demanded him to tell her. “I just wanted to talk about more stuff.” he grinned and grabbed her hand and pulled her to sit down next to him on the brick wall. She fumbled in her bag for a cigarette. She found her rickety old lighter and lit it. She took a slow drag from it and let the smoke come pouring out of her nose. She noticed Tate staring at her. She flicked some ash onto her shoe.

“What?” she lifted her chin and blew a ring of smoke into his face as she looked at him. He didn’t flinch. “What school did your parents put you in?” he stomped his foot on a pebble. She looked up at the darkening sky before she answered the fateful school question. “Westfield. Which do you go to?” “Me too.” Violet nodded, acknowledging his answer. They sat on the wall for a while in silence, while Violet smoked her cigarette. The white stick looked so pure in between her grey, bruised fingers. She was weirdly nervous around him, although she wasn’t even thinking about what her dad said.

“Who do you live with?” They’d moved onto a different subject now. “My mom, and my sister. We actually lived in this house,” he pointed at the house behind him, now belonging to the Harmon’s. “And then we moved next door. My dad left when I was six and my mom was fucking some weirdo guy, who he was having an affair with. He had a wife and two kids and everything. I hated the guy but, the wife and kids seemed nice. The wife ended up setting herself and the kids on fire. Can I have some?” Tate gestured to the cigarette resting between Violet’s fingers. She passed it to him and he took a long, slow drag. He looked cool. “Why are you staring at me?” he mocked in a similar tone Violet had used earlier when she had caught him staring. Now she was staring at him. She hated being embarrassed though, so she brushed it off. “I wasn’t.” her tone was suddenly back to being hostile again, as she stepped up back onto the grass and walked off nearer to her house. “I’m sorry.” Tate shouted at her back. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of her looking back at him so she flipped him off while walking. “See you at school tomorrow.” His voice was a bit further away now, he probably was walking home.

Ben and Vivien came home a couple hours later. “Vi? You okay?” her mom knocked on the door. Violet had taken off her sweater and her shirt and was just in a slip and leggings. She was sat on her bed, with books and paintings and little knick-knacks strewn across it. “Hi, mom.” Vivien walked into her daughter’s bedroom. She walked across the dark wood floor, Violet could hear her shoes tapping across it. It stops for a second as she walks over the carpet and sits down on her bed. “I know tomorrow will be hard. You’re brave. I know you can do it.” Vivien smiles. She knows her daughter doesn’t really “fit in” and definitely won’t fit in with a lot of the California girls. “Yeah. Thanks. I really doubt that.” She faked a smile for her mom and went back to her books. Vivien sighed, and left the girl alone.


	3. show me what you're hiding

Violet was smoking outside at lunch, sat on some old bench, watching everyone walk past her. She idly dropped her cigarette onto the cement and flicked it with her foot. 

“Hey!” she heard a girl shout. Violet paid no attention. “Hey! bitch on the bench, I’m talking to you.” The girl’s voice was louder now, and a taller girl with brown hair and a very pointy face was walking towards her. “I saw what you did. There’s a no smoking policy at this school? People eat here. They sit here?” The girl shouted at Violet. She looked her up and down and looked at the cigarette, and then up at Violet. “Oh, sorry. I’m new here I… didn’t know.” “I don’t fucking care.” the girls’ interaction formed a medium sized crowd now, which happened to include Tate. He didn’t really want to get in on all this stuff but he saw Violet. The girl picked up Violet’s crushed cigarette and held it out in front of her. “Eat it.” Violet looked at the cigarette butt, and then up at the girl in disgust. “Eat it!” Violet waited for a minute and whacked the cigarette out of the girl’s hand, while simultaneously knocking it into her arm, which let out a sizzle on the girl’s arm. “You are DEAD!” the girl screamed and pulled Violet up from her safe position on the bench. There was a lot of hair pulling, smacking, and pushing. “Get her, Leah!” a girl behind said. Leah, the girl, had Violet pinned down on the dirty floor. Violet tried to smack Leah’s hands off of her but they were holding too tight on her arms. She saw the crushed cigarette near her on the ground and tried to grab it. “I don’t think so, bi- HEY!” Leah tried to move her foot so she could stomp out the cigarette butt, but someone had pulled her off Violet. It was Tate. Now they were fighting. Violet stood up quickly from her previous lying position. She felt her head swell and felt blood on the side of it and bruising coming through on her eye and lip. She looked at Tate and he looked back at her, holding a look that said ‘are you okay?’ for a second. “I don’t need your help.” She wiped her bloody nose with her hand and walked away, but just before seeing Leah’s fist connecting with Tate’s face. He didn’t fight back. 

“Fuck.” Violet was delving into her bag for a cigarette when most of the contents had fallen out of her bag onto the sidewalk. “Even better.” She said with a cigarette between her dry lips. She crouched onto the ground and started gathering her things up. “Need help?” an annoyingly familiar voice came from behind Violet. She didn’t want to turn around. She didn’t reply, either. She just picked her things up more quickly and walked away. “What the fuck? Violet!” she could hear his pacing footsteps getting heavier behind her. Tate put his arm on her shoulder to stop her. She swung around and stared at him, blankly. Blankly until, she saw his face. His hair was messier than usual, his fringe stuck to his forehead. There was dried blood in it from the gash in his forehead. His eye matched Violet’s, both bruised and purple. He had a cut on his cheek, and his lip was busted. He had a small tear in his shirt. Violet looked down at the ground and took the still-unlit cigarette out of her mouth and laughed. They both looked reckless. 

“My mom is NOT going to be happy when she sees me like this. I got into a couple of fights at my old school.” they were back sat on the low wall of Violet’s house. “I don’t think mine will care. Mind if I come in for a bit so I can clean up?” Tate said warily. He didn’t know if she was going to blow up in his face again. “Get me a light and you can do whatever you want.” She jabbed the dry cigarette in his direction. Out of his pocket, he brought a match and sparked it close to the cigarette. They both leant in and covered the match with their hands, so the wind didn’t take it away. “You’re weird.” Violet said while smoke was in her lungs. She exhaled and continued. “But, you’re really the only friend I’ve made here and I don’t want to hang out with my parents more so I guess you’re okay.” she smiled and took his hand in hers, placing it on her bent knee. She looked down at his larger hand and brushed her thumb over his knuckles. They were purple and bloody against her own pale grey child-like hands. 

Her smile disappeared and she looked up at Tate. He was already staring at her. “I’m sorry. I said I could handle it myself.” She flicked ash off of her cigarette and put it between her teeth so she had her other hand free. She reached up and gingerly moved the hair away from Tate’s face. Tate closed his eyes, and suddenly grabbed Violet’s wrist. He moved her hand down to his bruised cheek. “I don’t want to hurt y-“”You’re not.” Tate said, in a slightly annoyed tone, like he was hurrying her. She moved her thumb back and forth over the worsening bruise. Suddenly, Tate let go of Violet’s hand and it dropped to the side. He grabbed her face and leant in. She’d taken the cigarette out of her mouth now, and she was letting it die in her shaking hand. He could see her chest rise, and he grabbed on tighter. “Are you scared?” Tate was close to her face. “No.” she huffed. He leant in closer to her face, their noses almost touching. She smelled like spearmint, rust, cinnamon and menthol. He knew she was scared. He filled the gap between them by leaning in more, touching his lips delicately to hers. They were cold and rough. They stayed there for a moment, until Violet moved her lips with his. She opened her mouth so Tate could slip his tongue in, and swipe it over her teeth, and hit it against her own tongue. He tasted of ash from her cigarette and some weird musty oak cologne, which was filling her nostrils. They slowed down a little, and Tate loosened his grasp on the sides of her head. She let out a sigh when they unlocked lips, and Tate pulled away. He kissed her head and dropped her hands to his lap, not really knowing what to do next.

“We should… go inside.” Violet was already hurriedly picking her things up. She dropped her cigarette on the sidewalk, it was all ash now. She pulled her hand up to touch her lips, they felt tingly and numb. She could smell the ash from her cigarette on the tips of her fingers. She walked quickly inside, where she knew her parents would be. Tate walked silently behind her. The front door slammed shut behind them and the teenagers heard the lovely, homely voices of the girl’s parents shouting. “Well can’t you do something ABOUT it, Ben?” Violet heard Vivien shouting. She usually blanked out what they were arguing about. Vivien walked out of the kitchen into the hallway, looking flushed. She stared at Violet and her eyes widened. “Violet! What happened to your face? Who’s this?” Vivien was leading both of them into the kitchen, and Ben was in his office. “This is Tate, he’s one of dad’s patients. He also lives next door and goes to Westfield. I, and then he, got into a fight.” Violet looked back at Tate, and he nudged her back as they sat down at the kitchen island. Vivien nodded at her answer. “Boy or girl?” “Girl. With a couple of her friends behind her.” Violet replied, quietly. Vivien nodded again, trying to divert the conversation. “Oh. I’ve met your mom, Tate. She’s an…” “Odd woman.” She got interrupted by an older woman, walking into the kitchen, bringing in the washing that was hanging outside. She was wearing a maid’s outfit, and the skirt hung down by her knees. Her bright red hair was tied up in a neat, low bun, and she had a cloudy eye. “Oh, Violet. This is the maid – Moira. Moira, this is my daughter, Violet.” Vivien was still treating her eye and Violet smiled curtly at the maid. Moira flicked her eyes towards Tate. She nodded her head at him slowly, acknowledging him. He looked away quickly, and tried to find something, anything to fixate on. He settled on Violet’s ripped tights.

 

“That should be good.” Vivien smiled at Violet while she finished cleaning her daughter’s wounds up. “Thanks, mom. I can sort Tate out upstairs.” Violet hauled herself out of the kitchen and pulled Tate with her. She slammed her bedroom door when they were both inside and she groaned as she saw her appearance in her mirror. “I wish I could get that bitch back, you know?” she slung some first aid supplies onto the bed, where Tate was strewn out. “Why don’t we? We can scare her. She won’t be bothering you again.” he smiled at her, a little sinisterly. Violet laughed. “And do what? I’m surprised my parents didn’t up and out me of that school the second I wasn’t home on time.” she was taking her shoes and her sweater off. Tate was staring. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. He thought Violet had already forgotten. He never really had a crush at school before, he was never really interested in anyone. None of the girls got him. Until, he saw Violet walking up the path. The taste of her mouth was still on his tongue. The scent of blood: rusty and metallic, lingered in the air and on their clothes. The smell of coconut from her hair. “Leave it to me. Just lead her here, after school. The basement. Say you’ve got coke.” Tate pulled her down on the bed next to him on the cold pillow. He saw the gash on Violet’s arm, she had pulled the bandage off. There was dried blood around it. Tate held onto her arm and stared. “I really am sorry.” Violet didn’t pull her arm away this time. She stared vacantly down at her arm, like she was detached from her own body. She tilted her head slightly upwards to look at him. “Stay with me.” Tate knew Violet wasn’t asking. “Of course.” He lowered his head so they were eye level with each other. The room was dark now, as the sun was setting behind the closed blinds of Violet’s sanctuary. Neither of them had turned a lamp on. They could hear each other’s slow breaths in the silent room as they slowly fell asleep.

Violet awoke to a still-dark room alone. It was like Tate was never there. His indent in the pillow next to her had gone, the cover wasn’t drawn back like someone had just gotten up. Violet could only hear the house creak and the distant sound of cars.

 

When Violet woke again, it was morning. She also woke to Moira in her bedroom, sorting out clothes from the hamper. “Sorry to wake you, dear. There’s breakfast in the kitchen.” Moira turned around and walked out of the door. Violet sported a long dress, an undershirt and mustard yellow cardigan for the day ahead. As she walked down the stairs to her parents, she thought about what Tate had said. “Bring her here after school. To the basement.” She rolled her eyes just thinking about what bullshit plan Tate had. She was outside her gate when she fumbled around her cardigan pocket for a cigarette. “Fuck. A dead lighter too?” she threw the lighter to the bottom of her bag and she took the unlit cigarette out of her mouth. She heard a spark of a match close behind her. She swung around and saw Tate. “Need a light?” She didn’t say anything, she just walked over to the boy and put the cigarette to the bright flame. Violet took a quick drag of it, and flicked it. She was still a little agitated from him leaving the night before. They stood there silently, Tate glancing looks at Violet while she looked out into the road. She looked up at him, and up at his bruised face. “Your eye matches your sweater.” she jokingly pulled at a loose thread of the sweater he was wearing: a green V-neck, with a white shirt slung under it. His bruised eye was a mix of green, purple and blue. Tate pushed her hand away, but grabbed it before it fell to her side. He held it for a while, while they were walking. He liked it. He felt… normal. Especially with her. They were similar. Violet didn’t think it was so bad either. One hand dedicated to her cigarette, the other to a boy. They walked in silence.

“You should tell me all about the history of the house and the ghost bullshit.” Violet was swinging their clasped hands back and forth as they walked, taking slow drags from her cigarette, directing the smoke at Tate while she spoke to him. “Well,” he took the cigarette from her when she offered it to him. He looked so beautiful with the smoke billowing out of his nostrils, Violet thought. “Well. The house was built in 1922, by Dr. Charles Montgomery for his wife, Nora.” the early sun that was beating down on the teenagers made Tate’s hair almost glow, like an angel’s. “Charles was a surgeon to the stars. He would also perform abortions on girls who couldn’t afford it. Charles and Nora also had a baby, around the same time he got addicted to ether.” Violet watched him intently. “How do you know all this shit?” 

“My mom told me a bit of it. Books, researching mostly.” He nodded at the ground and then looked up at her, almost like he was embarrassed. He continued. “He ended up experimenting with animals. Stitching them up. Resurrecting. All that shit.” Violet looked fascinated. “Someone stole the baby and, he got returned to the Montgomery’s in jars. Charles decided to try and experiment on him by stitching him up, and resurrecting him like he did with the animals. People say it worked, and that the thing he made was a blood-thirsty monster. And how the baby still lives in the basement, and it kills people down there.” Tate’s eyes widened, trying to spook her. “I’m surprised this shit doesn’t scare you or creep you out.” He blew smoke out of the small “O” he made with his lips. “I’m not scared of anything, especially not some ghost story.” She rolled her eyes as they walked up to the school, breaking her grip on his hand. Tate nodded, not wanting to disagree with her. 

 

Violet had just finished up at the library and remembered she had to go find Leah. Tate had said he’d meet them both in the basement after school. She walked out to the quad and saw Leah, with her two followers. She didn’t care for their names. She suddenly got a boost of confidence to stride up to them. “Hey.” Violet had said in quite an aggressive tone. Leah turned around and stuck her nose up at her. “I need you to stop fucking harassing me.” Violet almost snarled at the girl. Leah raised her eyebrows, as if to say “And if I don’t?” “I have what you want. Coke. A lot of it. Come by my place after school. I’m a dealer, and I’ve got the best shit in town.” She smiled and turned her back, never letting Leah a chance to speak. Violet knew she’d show up, though.

Violet had quickly gotten home and was waiting for Leah. She was sat on the staircase in the hallway, smoking a cigarette. Her parents weren’t home yet. She also didn’t know if Tate had arrived before her but she’d find out soon enough. She was nearing the end of her cigarette when the doorbell rang. She stuck her cigarette in her mouth and opened the door to Leah. “Well?” Leah asked. Violet smugly took a drag from her cigarette and leant her elbow on her other hand. “Basement. Follow me.” She blew grey smoke into the hallway and flicked some loose ash. She mentally remembered to tell Moira to spray over there. 

“Where is it? Why’s it so fucking dark?” Violet was leading Leah down the rickety basement stairs. The whirring boiler and their many footsteps on the stairs were the only noises. “Around the corner.” That’s where Tate said he’d be. Suddenly, a light turned on into the white, bleak room. Tate was sitting in an old rocking chair, his hair was ratty and messy, and his under eyes were dark. Extremely dark, Violet thought. “So, this is the coke whore.” Tate smiled at Violet. He looked different. Seemed different. Violet brushed it off, she didn’t care as long as whatever Tate had in store stopped Leah from harassing her. Violet smiled back at him and hit the light switch. A loud, high pitch, manic laugh came from over where Tate was rocking. The light was flickering, and Violet could make out a fourth person: was it even a person? It looked more like a thing. It made its way over to Leah, and the laughing got louder. It pounced on Leah, and she let out a piercing scream. The ‘thing’ had pinned Leah on her back, and in the bleak, flashing basement lights, Violet could see the thing had blood around its mouth, long, sharp claws and rotting, pointy teeth. There was a sound coming from over where it was, it was like nails scraping on bone, scraping on the cement floor. 

Tate’s laughing stopped. There was no creaking rocking chair. The lights had stopped flickering: it was pitch black. The scraping noise had gone. Leah was still screaming, though. “What the fuck?!” Violet heard Leah run past her up the stairs, she had a huge gash in her cheek. The lights turned on, and Tate was standing by Violet. He looked happy. “What the fuck WAS that?!” Violet was visibly shaken. She backed into the corner, near the basement stairs. “What was what? She must’ve run into a wall or something. We showed that bitch!” Tate smiled reassuringly at her and reached out to rub her shoulder. Violet was crying. She pushed him back, and he looked hurt. She ran up the stairs to the main hallway. “I thought you weren’t scared of anything!” He shouts up the stairs, but Violet had shut the door on him. She said he wasn’t scared of anything. Why was he scared of her?

 

The next Friday rolled around. Violet had been avoiding Tate. Some days, she’d go to school early and hide in the library. Other days she’d go in late so she wouldn’t have to see him walking past. She started smoking out of the window in her bedroom and on the porch. Sometimes she’d see him walk past and she would turn to go inside or shut the window. Violet hung out a lot at this old abandoned drained swimming pool-turned skate park, which is where she saw Leah. They started meeting up there and talking. Leah also took up smoking. They would share a pack, and finish them within 20 minutes. “Tate was trying to scare you. Us.” Violet didn’t really want to defend him, but what else could’ve happened? “There was something fucking THERE. Did you hear it? Look at my face!” She took a drag of her third cigarette. 

“She doesn’t want to see you, Tate.” Ben was talking to Tate when Violet came through the door. She left and came back at weird and different hours each day, just in case Tate waited for her. Ben and Tate were in Ben’s office, and when they heard the door shut, they both rushed into the hallway. Tate’s eyes followed Violet. She ignored him and went straight upstairs, hoping he’d get the hint. She heard some fumbling around downstairs, probably Ben trying to stop Tate from coming up here, she thought. 

“Violet?” she heard a knock on her door, she was smoking out of her window. She was sitting on the ledge, watching the rain pour. She turned her head and Tate was in her room. “It’s so fucking cold,” Tate tried to make conversation. He rubbed his arms and laughed nervously. “I miss rain. In Boston it used to rain all the time. Too much smog in LA.” She swung her legs into her bedroom, still smoking her cigarette. Tate nodded, and sat on the edge of her bed. Violet took another drag of her cigarette, and stared at him, like she was waiting for him to say something. Her iPod was playing softly in the background. Tate was pulling at the thin blanket on her bed. 

“I’m sorry.” The wind from the open window that Violet was sitting in front of was blowing into her hair. Tate didn’t want to look into her eyes, so he settled on her hands that were seemingly always bruised. Violet nodded and chewed on her lip as she reached behind her to flick ash out of the window. Her sweater sleeve rose and Tate could see new lines on her arm. She sighed, and got up to lay on the bed next to him.

“I know what you’re gonna say.” It was the first rational thing she said in a week. After the incident, for a while, all Violet would do is shout at him if he tried to talk. He laid down next to her, and rubbed his finger over the lines. “You shouldn’t have done it if you knew.” He looked at her in worry. “We weren’t talking. I was alone.” Violet looked blank. Tate took her arm and placed a small kiss on it. “You’re never alone. I’m here.” Violet felt weird being this close to somebody – emotionally and physically. She was always by herself and she didn’t mind that. She sat up and sat on the edge of her bed, her back away from Tate. 

“I know.” Violet still had her back to Tate, he was running his fingers on her back. The room was silent for a moment, apart from the heavy rain outside and the quiet brushes of Tate’s fingers on Violet’s back. She felt an indent in the mattress behind her, where Tate was now sat. “What’s wrong? I thought we were okay now?” he tried turning Violet’s body around to face him. She smiled at him sadly. “Maybe you should go.” He looked confused. “Go? I thought we… I…” “We’re fine. We’re good. It’s me.” She sighed. Violet was scared. She wasn’t used to one person being so open with her and close to her. Her parents were always too busy with their lives and she didn’t have any siblings. She was completely forgotten by her friends back in Boston, a distant memory. Vivien and Ben thought that if they up and moved across the country everything would be okay. Their whole dynamic never changed – still the same as it was. But Violet had somebody, and she was scared. She was scared she was going to mess it up or her father was going to have another affair and they’d have to up and move again from a place she actually liked, but there was no guarantee there’d be another Tate in the place they chose. 

Tate nodded and got up from the warm bed that they’d practically made their home and backed out of the door, vowing to check up on Violet.


End file.
